Cognitive Dissonance.

I am posting the screenshot below because it rang so many bells for me. Such an accurate description. Add to that the trick of lying to portray the victim as the abuser and you have the perfect picture.


The Final Straw

Now I don’t believe and I never did
That two wrongs make a right.
If the world were filled with the likes of you
Then I’m putting up a fight. I’m putting up a fight.
Putting up a fight. make it right. make it right.

final straw 3

I never understood; don’t fuck with me!

Just venting. And an excellent version of a song I love.

Protected: The Intolerable Lying of FKW

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The Painting.

I have, over the past few days, been working on a painting. I have been painting it with gouache which is a medium that you can re-work.

I knew exactly what I wanted to paint and what I wanted it to look like. It started well. Everything was flowing easily, it was going from my head to the canvas and looking good. Starting to build exactly how I had pictured it initially. I was happy with how it was going.

Then it started to go wrong. Not in any greatly definable way. Just not looking quite right or how I wanted it. Never mind, I thought. I can rework it and bring it back to how I want it. In the course of reworking it things started to go even more wrong. It ended up being, in my mind, quite ugly and not anything like I had intended. It got to the point where I was just going to give it all up and throw the canvas away.

In the end I decided to leave it overnight and go with it again. It’s started to come together and once again is looking good. Not exactly like it was at first or what I initially had in mind but still it looks good. It may even end up looking better than it started. I was thinking, but underneath there is still the good start and the ugly middle. But, actually, that isn’t true. Because the paint has been reworked and re-blended the original isn’t underneath. It’s all part of the new whole which has ended up well.

Thinking about this it has occurred to me that this is something of a metaphor. For a number of issues but also for something that needs to be resolved.

The Sky Above The Rain

I can remember a time when I would see the sky above the rain!

She loves him
But she doesn’t want him
She used to burn for him
But now that’s changed
She knows he knows
And she says it isn’t so
What else can she say?
But when he reaches out
She turns away.

When he talks about it
She says he’s cruel
So he apologises
Counts his blessings
What else can he do?
She used to gaze at him reach out with her toes to touch him
She still loves him
But she doesn’t want him

And in her eyes, he’s so much less
Than the light heart she met
The laughing boy she used to know

He feels ugly now, and the ugliness, creeps around inside him
Until he really is.
The animal paws at him, gnaws at him
The silver-back wins over him

And in his pain, and bitter shame, he resents her.
The one who loves him

They said they’d never lie
They’d learned their lessons from the last times
They said that they could talk
They could always talk
Deceit stirs in them now for reasons good as well as bad

But he wants so much
Not to live another lie
To be free and high again
Trying to see the blue sky above the rain
Trying to see the blue sky above the rain
Remembering the blue sky above the pouring rain
He’s trying to see the blue sky above the rain

He’s flown there and he’s seen it,
been up there lighter than air, floating in the miracle
But he can’t fly until she wants him
He can’t burn until she sparks him
He’s dressed in lead from toe to head
Trying to see the blue sky above the rain
Remembering the blue sky above the rain
Maybe they’ll talk
Soul to soul head to head heart to heart eye to eye
Rise up to that blue space above the clouds
Where troubles die
And tears dry
Heading West and climbing
In that place the sun never stops shining
The rain’s below us.


I took a blade and dug it deep into my flesh, watched the edges of the wound fall apart. Watched the blood fill the gaping gash and spill over and run. Felt the sharp sting and then the burning ache. All in an attempt to remember the other pain, the pain of you. In the hope it would make me forget you.